


The Days that Bind Us

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abandonment, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Famous Harry, First Time Blow Jobs, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Musician Harry, Student Harry, Student Louis, Teacher Louis, Teacher Zayn, Time Skips, harry is the emotionally stunted one for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 07:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2642723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Louis stands up abruptly, throwing his jacket on and walking over to the door. Harry trips on his way to get up as he follows him. 'Louis, wait, just let me talk to you - '</p><p>Louis whips around. 'Oh now you want to talk? After four years of nothing, suddenly I’m worth your time? I’m sorry Harry, but that’s not good enough. I don’t know why I even came here. Fuck, I am so stupid.'"</p><p>Or the one where Louis and Harry are best friends until they're not, and fate has a funny way of working itself out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Days that Bind Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JustForTommo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustForTommo/gifts).



> I really loved this prompt and was so excited to come up with the plot. I want to thank Brittany for listening to me outline the entire thing during one very long voicenote on whatsapp, and I'm absolutely indebted to my amazing beta Liz as well as the lovely Sam who britpicked for me. Thank you both so much!
> 
> The title is from 'Bad Blood' by Bastille.

                                                                     

**Part I: 16 and 18**

“You’re being an idiot, stop.” Louis pauses in the middle of fixing his fringe to turn and glare at Zayn, who is perched on the edge of his bed looking bored.

“Wow, Zayn, remind me again why you’re here?”

Zayn rolls his eyes and walks over to where Louis is fussing in front of the mirror. “You look great. Just, like, I don’t know. _Chill_ a bit.” Louis bites back the self-deprecating response that’s on the tip of his tongue, knowing that Zayn is probably right and there’s no amount of messing with his hair that’s going to make him any less nervous.

“It’s just a big deal, you know? I can’t believe he agreed to come. We’ve only spoken, like, four times.” Louis clasps his hands together in his lap in a half-hearted attempt to stop fidgeting with his outfit as Zayn puts an arm around his shoulders.

“I wish you’d stop underestimating yourself so much, Lou. Of course he’s coming. You’re quite the catch, you know.”

Louis snorts, elbowing him in the stomach. “Shut up, Z, you sound like my mum. _Quite the catch_.”

Zayn gives him a serious look, making sure Louis’ eyes are locked on his before he speaks. “All jokes aside, mate,  I’m really proud of you. I know asking Aiden to come wasn’t easy.”

That would be the understatement of the century, Louis thinks to himself. It’s December 23rd, and he’s turning 18 tomorrow. Normally his birthday is overshadowed by the holidays, but this is a big birthday for him and his mother had agreed to let him throw a party for the first time in, well, _ever_ basically. It’s still a relatively small gathering considering Louis doesn’t really have that many friends outside of his core group of Zayn, Liam, Niall, and Harry, but still. It’s his very own house party.

His mom had even taken his sisters to their nan’s house so he could have the house entirely to himself. Louis had never been given free reign with something like that before, and he’d decided then and there that he was going to make it count by inviting Aiden Grimshaw, the star of their school’s drama department and the boy he’d had a massive crush on for the past two years. While Louis had been open about his sexuality since he was 16 years old, Aiden had never really confirmed or denied that he swung in the same direction. Louis didn’t really think he had a shot with him anyhow; just the simple act of inviting the boy he liked to his birthday party was enough of a major accomplishment for him.

Of course, now that people are due to start arriving in thirty minutes, Louis second guesses everything. Is the playlist okay? Does he have enough food? Will people be bored? And of course - will Aiden find him attractive enough to maybe give him a birthday snog?

So yeah, Louis is nervous, to say the least. Before he can answer Zayn, the doorbell rings and he sprints down the stairs, tripping over his shoes in the front hallway as he frantically throws open the door to reveal none other than Harry Styles, his best and oldest friend.

“Hazza!” he exclaims, pulling a giggling Harry into a hug as he closes the door behind him.

"Happy birthday Lou!” Harry responds, hugging him back just as tightly. Louis refuses to let go, nearly squeezing the life out of his best mate as Harry waves at Zayn. “Sorry I couldn’t be here earlier, Barabara needed me to stay late.”

Louis buries his face in Harry’s neck. “S’okay Haz. Didn’t miss much. Just me having yet another emotional breakdown.” Harry’s hands tighten around Louis as he gives Zayn a questioning look.

“Again? Not about - ”

Zayn nods. “Yeah, the whole Aiden thing. I promise he’ll show, Lou.” Louis grumbles, still clutching Harry tight to him like an oversized curly haired teddy bear.

“I just want him to like me,” he mumbles, too quiet for Zayn to hear, meant just for Harry’s ears. In response, Harry runs a comforting hand through Louis’ hair.

The doorbell rings a second time and Louis tears himself out of Harry’s arms and over to the front door, doing his best to fix his hair before pulling it open to reveal the last two missing members of his friend group, Liam and Niall.

“Mates!” he yells, dragging them both inside and planting a kiss on each of their cheeks. Liam flushes, never quite sure what to do with himself when Louis showers him with physical affection, while Niall merely slaps his bum in greeting on the way to the kitchen, wondering loudly whether the pizza’s been ordered yet. Louis meets Harry’s eyes on the other side of the room and they grin at each other, Louis’ nerves finally forgotten.

Guests steadily trickle in over the next hour, and by the time Aiden finally shows up, Louis is halfway to drunk. He stumbles over to the front door, his inebriated brain affecting his ability to censor his actions as he pulls a stunned Aiden in for a massive hug. He hears a low voice cough from somewhere to Aiden’s right and turns to see that Aiden’s brought some friend with him that Louis vaguely recognizes from the drama club. Mitch, or Marty or -

“This is Matt. Hope you don’t mind I invited him.” Louis turns back to look at Aiden, who is awkwardly hovering in the doorway still.

Right, manners and all that. Louis smiles at him. “Sure. Of course. Come in, plenty of food and drinks to go around.” Louis stands aside while they both walk past him, with the friend, Matt, muttering an awkward ‘Happy Birthday’ to Louis as he passes. Louis forces himself to ignore the fact that Aiden hadn’t even bothered to say anything.

Despite Louis’ many attempts to incorporate Aiden and Matt into the group’s conversations, the two of them isolate themselves in their own little bubble on Louis’ sofa, there but not really there. Harry and Zayn take turns sending Louis concerned looks, but he ignores them, determined not to let Aiden’s weird behaviour ruin his birthday. Would it have been nice for him to at least acknowledge Louis at his own party? Sure. But Louis’ used to having hopeless crushes on straight boys, at least this one bothered to show up.

By midnight everyone in Louis’ house is drunk, and Louis has somehow swapped shirts with Zayn during the course of the night (he’s a little foggy on the details of the entire past hour if he’s being honest with himself). He’s sitting on the floor, his head in Harry’s lap as Liam tells a long winded story about his maths test or something equally inane that no one’s really paying attention to (though Zayn half-heartedly pretends to be interested). Louis realizes with sudden clarity that he has to wee, and sits up abruptly, startling Harry as he wobbles out of the living room and towards the washroom.

He walks down the hallway, pausing when he hears giggling coming from one of the guest rooms. He doubles back a bit, freezing on the spot when he spots Aiden and Matt sitting on the edge of the bed, Matt practically in Aiden’s lap as they kiss. Louis can only stare in horror as they break apart to breathe, Matt moving to press kisses down Aiden’s throat.

“D’you reckon he even noticed we’re missing?” Matt asks, and Louis feels like he’s been punched in the gut because they’re talking about him.

“Don’t know, don’t care. Just want you.” Aiden murmurs in response, running a hand up Matt’s leg.

“Be nice, Aid. The kid’s practically in love with you,” Matt retorts, biting on Aiden’s earlobe as Louis feels his stomach drop.

“I know that, why do you think I agreed to come? Didn’t want to crush the kid on his own birthday. Seems pointless now, though. Not like anyone’s missing us. Fuck, I want you so badly right now,” Aiden’s voice is practically dripping with lust and Louis just stands there, his heart shattering in a million tiny pieces as the boy he’s been dreaming about for the past two years dismisses his feelings like they mean nothing and then talks about wanting to fuck someone else in his guest room.

He must make some sort of noise because Aiden and Matt break apart, their heads snapping to the doorway to see Louis pathetically standing there looking like he’s swallowed broken glass. Matt’s eyes widen with shame and guilt as Aiden gapes at him. Louis feels his legs start working again as he sprints to his bedroom and slams the door shut, taking care to lock it behind him.

He can hear Aiden and Matt’s raised voices down the hall, arguing about what to do before ultimately deciding to just leave. Louis burrows under his comforter, his face wet with tears he didn’t even realize he was crying. He knows they’ve reached the main party area when he hears Zayn asking where Louis is. There’s some arguing back and forth, and then the sound of Harry’s raised voice before the front door slams shut. The sound system shuts off a second later, and then there’s the sound of everyone leaving as Zayn escorts them all out with Liam and Niall’s help. Louis wipes his face quickly with his fists, knowing that Harry will be at his door any second, and sure enough -

“Lou?”

Just the sound of Harry’s voice causes him to let out an embarrassing sob, and Harry becomes more insistent.

“Louis, please let me in. Those arseholes left, me and Zayn threw them out. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” If it was anyone else, Louis wouldn’t budge, would just wait quietly for them to give up and back off. But not Harry. Because he knows that Harry will sit down outside his door and refuse to budge, even sleeping on the floor right outside if that’s what it takes, and Harry has a bad back so Louis refuses to do that to him.

He gets up quietly and unlocks the door, immediately sagging back onto the bed. The doorknob turns tentatively a moment later and Harry steps inside, his eyes wide as he takes in the scene in front of him. He closes and locks the door again behind him, then sits next to Louis, pulling him into his arms and cuddling him close as Louis cries.

“I just wanted someone to like me back,” Louis sobs. “I just want to like a boy and have it work out for once in my life.”

Harry holds him tight, not caring that Louis’ getting snot all over his shirt. “I know Lou,” he kisses him softly on the forehead. “I want that for you too.”

 

***

 

Harry cuddles Louis for as long as he needs to pull himself together again, and aside from Zayn stopping by to make sure everything’s okay, the other boys have left the two of them alone for the past hour. Louis’ eyes are finally dry again, and aside from the shame he feels over the spectacle he made of himself in front of Aiden, he’s ready to stop being sad.

Harry seems to notice the change in Louis’ mood too because he ruffles his hair a bit before giving him a squeeze and letting go. Before Louis can protest, Harry shoots him a mischievous grin. “I’ll be right back, I promise.” Louis sighs dramatically but can’t help the smile that peeks through when Harry winks at him before ducking out of the room like a ninja. He returns a moment later with a brightly wrapped box in his hands. “So this was meant to be a surprise for tomorrow morning but you look like you need it now, so …”

Harry hands the box to Louis without further adieu. Louis carefully peels away the ribbon, keeping it together, opening the lid to reveal a cake that’s frosted in red and gold and has the Manchester United Red Devils logo painstakingly iced on the top of it. Louis stares at it in shock, his mouth dry. Harry made that for him. For _him_. He not only baked him his very own birthday cake from scratch, but spent god knows how long icing the top after his favourite football team. Louis looks up at Harry to see him blushing, a tiny nervous smile on his face.

“That’s why I was late, before. I had to wait ‘til we were closed so I could get the frosting right.” Harry looks down at his feet, unable to hold Louis’ gaze for too long. Louis carefully places the box on his bed before running over and tackling Harry, planting kisses all over his face. Harry beams at him, and Louis feels his heart swell. He may have had his heart broken by crush, but look at what he got instead - the best birthday present ever from his favourite boy.

“Thank you, Hazza. Thank you so much.” Harry pulls him in for another hug and touches his forehead against Louis’.

“I just like seeing you smile, Lou.”

 

***

 

They eventually head back down to join the other three boys, all of whom are duly impressed by Harry’s cake decorating skills and who are desperate to get their hands on some of it (namely Niall). They turn the music back on, dancing around Louis’ living room like fools to whatever’s on the radio and polishing off the rest of the beer leftover from before. By the time the boys are ready to go to bed, they’re all varying stages of drunk again and end up just sort of collapsing in various places around Louis’ house. Liam’s the first to fall asleep, and then Zayn, who’s tucked under Liam’s arm on the sofa. Niall sprawls out on the carpet, dead to the world shortly after the other two.

Louis know that he and Harry aren’t quite ready to sleep just yet, though. They retreat back upstairs into Louis’ room, afraid of waking up the other boys, and collapse next to each other on Louis’ bed.

“I don’t even like beer,” Harry declares, and Louis finds that hilarious, letting out a high-pitched squeal of a laugh that proceeds to set Harry off too. Louis somehow manages to knock his phone onto the floor, and his smile drops when he picks it up and sees that Aiden’s texted him a bunch of times. Harry frowns, taking phone from Louis gently and placing it on the side table.

“He doesn’t deserve you, Lou.” Louis nods, giving Harry a tiny smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Something sparks in Harry’s eyes and he pulls Louis abruptly onto his lap . Louis looks at him curiously, not sure what exactly he’s doing and then Harry’s kissing him and any and all thinking stops. Louis sinks into Harry, giving into him completely as they kiss, his heart racing as they hold tightly to each other. Harry’s drunk, he knows that, and so is he, and he doesn’t know whether Harry’s kissing him to comfort him, or because he feels bad for him, or just because he wants to make sure he knows he is wanted, but he’s past the point of asking questions. He just wants to feel loved. Needed. And when Harry eventually moves down to the waistband of Louis’ jeans and looks up at him with questioning eyes, Louis doesn’t even hesitate to surrender himself completely.

 

***

 

When Louis wakes up the next morning with Harry’s hair in his face, he doesn’t think much of it until he realizes they’re both naked. Hazy memories of the night before swirl in his head, and he does his best to stay calm lest he wake up the sleeping boy beside him. He remembers kissing and Harry blowing him and then Louis returning the favour and then passing out on top of each other. What he doesn’t remember is how they even got to the point, and more importantly, what it means.

Harry stirs next to him and blinks awake slowly, his green eyes warm in the morning light. He sighs and stretches out his back, startling when he bumps into Louis.

“Morning,” he mumbles, his voice rough with sleep and (Louis can’t help but blush) as a result of what they did last night.

“Hi,” Louis responds cautiously. Harry had been drunker than him, but he’d also been the one to initiate everything, so Louis is completely willing to take his lead as to whether or not they’ll both pretend it never happened.

‘What time ‘s it?” Harry asks, searching for his clothes on the floor next to the bed.

Louis blinks. “Um, just past 11, I think. The boys are still asleep downstairs if the lack of noise is any indication.”

Harry pulls on his jeans and tugs a shirt over his head, frowning at the icing stain on the front of it. “Right. Well, may as well wake them up too. Could use all the help I can get with breakfast.”

Louis frowns but doesn’t say anything, following Harry silently out of the room. So apparently they’re acting like last night didn’t happen. Louis’ read enough books and watched enough tv to know that isn’t going to end well, but if it’s what Harry wants he’s willing to give it a shot.

 

***

 

Oddly enough, the fallout Louis is waiting for never comes. Everything between them just sort of … goes back to normal. Harry’s still as touchy as ever, but there doesn’t seem to be any intent there that didn’t exist before. Louis, for his part, is just glad that he doesn’t have to deal with any negative ramifications. It’s weird, yeah, but if it really was just a one time birthday blowjob thing for Harry, then Louis is totally fine with that.

Only Louis is wrong, as he learns very quickly after Harry pulls him into the basement at Zayn’s birthday party three weeks later and sucks him off. There isn’t even the excuse of Louis being under extreme emotional distress this time, as he’d literally been in the middle of a conversation with Liam about shitty movie adaptations before Harry had tugged him away. Again, Harry doesn’t say anything afterward, just kisses Louis quickly and goes back to the party as if nothing had happened.

It becomes a _thing_. Soon, every time there’s an opportunity for them to get each other off, they do. It never progresses past handjobs and blowjobs and kissing, but at least twice a week they find themselves in someone’s bathroom at a party, or in Niall’s spare room during a movie night, or in the back of Louis’ car after football practice. Louis’ not sure what it means, if anything, but if Harry’s okay with their weird unaddressed friends-with-benefits thing he’s sure as hell not going to ruin it. It helped him get over Aiden after all, and Harry’s not asking for him to be his boyfriend or anything. It’s just … nice. They’re best friends and they get each other off and it’s _nice_. Confusing, sure, but as long as it’s not harming their relationship then Louis’ not one to say anything.

Somehow, none of their other friends seem to suspect a thing, even though Louis and Harry tend to duck away together in the middle of group hang-out times more frequently than they did before. Louis thinks Zayn might be wondering if there’s something going on, but he never asks, and Louis never says anything. It is what it is, no use trying to explain it to others when he doesn’t even understand what’s happening.

 

***

 

“Hey Hazza?” Harry looks up from where he’s laying with his head on Louis’ tummy. They’re sprawled across his bed, dressed in sweatpants and watching tv together. It’s maybe not the most exciting way to spend a Friday afternoon, but it’s tradition. Besides, Harry has better snacks at his house and also doesn’t have to constantly worry about his four little sisters barging into his room and demanding that they pay attention to them.

“Yeah, Lou?”

Louis reaches out and pokes him in the cheek. “Nothing, just wanted to do that. Carry on.” Harry giggles and lays back down, his curls tickling the bit of skin peeking out from the gap between Louis’ shirt and his waistband. It’s comfortable, is the thing. The two of them just hanging out, not expecting anything other than just enjoying each other’s company. Louis forgets sometimes how much he loves Harry just for _being_ Harry. The physical stuff is great (and between the two of them, they’ve certainly improved both of their skills drastically over the two or so months they’ve been hooking up) but it doesn’t define their relationship.

***

 

Louis doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until the overwhelming need to pee wakes him up. His eyes open, blinking rapidly to adjust to Harry’s suddenly dark bedroom.  The side of the bed next to him is cold, but Louis doesn’t think about that as he runs to the bathroom.

When he gets back, Harry’s in the room again, but he’s sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed, his body language weirdly closed off. Louis climbs onto the bed behind him, intending to rest his chin on Harry’s shoulder and ask what’s wrong but Harry flinches at his touch. Louis pulls back, trying to keep the hurt expression off of his face. Everything had been fine before he’d fallen asleep, what the hell could have possibly happened in an hour?

“H?”

Harry stares at his hands, not looking at Louis when he answers. “I’m not really feeling well, I think it’d be best if you went home.”

Louis can’t really explain why it feels like his heart is breaking, but it does. Harry’s words are innocent enough in themselves, but there’s something behind them, something in his delivery that makes him feel like he’s being rejected.

“Did,” he pauses, trying to keep his voice even and shoving the panic deep deep inside. “Did I do something?”

Harry finally turns to look at him, and when their eyes meet Louis wants to cry. His expression is blank, carefully guarded in that way that he’s never seen directed at him, not in all of their years of friendship.

“It’s fine, Louis. I just think I need some space for a bit. Til I’m feeling better.” Louis nods robotically, picking up his stuff and throwing it into his bag.

“Yeah, okay. I, um,” he stands by the door, awkwardly shifting his weight as he considers what to say. “Call me, okay? When you’re feeling better?” Harry nods, avoiding eye contact.

“Okay.”

Louis bites his lip and gives a half-hearted wave before turning and leaving the room, his bag slung over his shoulder and his heart sitting somewhere by his feet.

“Bye Lou,” he hears Harry murmur softly behind him. It’s the last thing Harry ever says to him.

 

***

 

“Have you seen Harry? He’s not still sick is he?” Louis hasn’t heard a word from his best friend all weekend. It was Monday morning now, five minutes before class, and he has no idea if he’s even going to show up.

Zayn gives him a funny look. “Harry’s not sick. Unless he came down with something in the past 15 minutes.”

“He was on the weekend, though,” Louis says, trying to ignore the panic bubbling beneath the surface. “On Friday. He started feeling poorly so he asked me to leave. I asked him to let me know when he was feeling better but …”

Zayn’s expression of confusion intensifies. “That’s weird, cause he was out with Niall on Friday night. They went to the pub to watch the game. I only know about cause Niall was bitching to me about how hungover he was the next morning.”

Louis frowns at his shoes as Zayn gives his shoulders a squeeze. “Weird that he didn’t tell you, though. I’m sure it’s nothing. He’s probably just running late or something.”

“Or something,” Louis mumbles, feeling that same sick-to-his-stomach way he did after Harry kicked him out. Something was wrong, and for once he had no clue what he could have possibly done. He’d gone to sleep in Harry’s bed and woken up in a parallel universe where everything was wrong.

By the time lunch rolls around, Louis has seen neither hair or hide of Harry all day. Liam assures him that Harry’s here, he’d been in their shared history class that morning, so it seems to be only Louis he’s avoiding.

It’s a feeling he holds onto until he reaches the cafeteria only to spot Harry’s usual seat at their table empty. He stares at it in confusion, not realizing he’s holding up the line behind him until Zayn bumps into him and carefully pulls him out of the way.

Niall and Liam are already seated, and the missing spot where Harry usually sits feels like a giant gaping hole in his heart. He feels his anxiety clawing at his insides, because no matter how mad Harry’s been at him, or at the other boys, he’s never missed lunch with them. Not ever. It’s a tradition that had been going on since they were kids.

He can finally see the traces of worry on the other boys faces too as they realize Harry hadn’t come in to the lunchroom with Louis and Zayn.

“He’s probably just staying late in class. You know him, constantly overachieving.” Niall says with a small grin. Liam nods in agreement, but Zayn stays silent, putting a comforting hand on Louis’ shoulder.

Over on the other side of the room, they hear a loud voice cry out “Harold!” and turn to see Nick Grimshaw, resident hipster and campus radio dj pulling Harry into a hug and gesturing for him to sit down at the empty seat next to him.

Harry grins, hugging Nick back, but even from here Louis can see the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. They can’t hear what’s being said at Nick’s table, but they see a bunch of the people sitting there turning and looking towards them, thinly veiled curiosity in their eyes. This is … well, it’s _unprecedented_ is what it is. Louis’ moved beyond hurt and into a state of bafflement. He feels like his entire world has been flipped upside down without him having anything to say about it.

“I didn’t even know they were friends,” he whispers, and Zayn pulls him into a hug as tears gather in eyes no matter how hard he fights to stop them.

He can hear Liam and Niall talking quietly to each other, obviously concerned and confused, but Zayn’s attention is focused entirely on him, brushing his hair back and letting Louis hide his face in his shirt until he’s ready to let go.

“I don’t know what I did, Zayn.” he says, and he hates how he can hear the tears in his own voice. “Everything was great and now he won’t even speak to me.”

Zayn rubs a soothing hand up and down Louis’ back. “I don’t know either, Lou, but you have us, okay? You have me. And I promise we’ll figure this out.”

 

***

 

They don’t figure it out, is the thing. All of a sudden Harry is spending every single lunch hour with Nick Grimshaw and his friends. Now it’s not just Louis he’s avoiding, but all of them - Zayn, Liam _and_ Niall. He doesn’t talk to Liam in their history class outside of ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers and Liam very quickly gives up on trying. He doesn’t go out with Niall anymore, choosing instead to spend his spare time with Nick in the radio booth. He quickly gains popularity as Nick’s 16 year old co-host, and the entire school eats it up.

Before Louis knows it, it’s been a month and Harry hasn’t once tried to talk to him. He clings on to the only memory he has, of those awkward and tense final moments in Harry’s bedroom, and even though he knows logically that he did nothing wrong, that whatever _this_ is, it isn’t his fault, he can’t help but play the moment over and over again in his head, crying himself to sleep more nights than not.

He misses his best friend, is the thing. More than he misses the physical stuff he misses talking and laughing and just _being together_. Zayn does his best to fill the hole in Louis’ life left by Harry’s sudden departure, coming home with him after school and helping him babysit his sisters, and while it’s nice, he’s still not Harry.

One month turns into two, two becomes four, and before Louis can properly think about it school is over for the year and Harry hasn’t talked to him in five months.

Suddenly it’s Louis’ last day of school before Uni in Manchester with Zayn in the fall, and he’s never felt more bittersweet about anything in his life.

 

**Part II: 20 & 22**

 

Manchester

Louis’ only been here for 20 minutes and he’s wondering if it would be rude to leave already. It’s not that he doesn’t like work functions, it’s just that, without Zayn here to entertain him, he’s bored to tears surrounded by men and women who have been teaching at the secondary school Louis works at for much longer than he has and who, as a result, have nothing in common with him.

Louis normally doesn’t mind being one of the youngest teachers (for one, it means the students tend to like him the best) but it’s different being at school surrounded by 12 and 13 year olds as opposed to stuck at a table by himself at the staff Christmas party. Louis tries to subtly check the time on his phone. It’s only half past Seven. Fuck.

He hears determined footsteps striding towards him and looks up to see Principal Dan smiling down at him, his eyes glazed and shiny in a way that immediately tips Louis off that the eggnog has been spiked already.

“Mr. Tomlinson! Lovely to see you here.” He sticks his hand out jerkily and Louis shakes it, trying not to laugh at how obviously drunk his boss is.

“I’m glad I could make it. I’ve heard tales ‘round the staff room about much fun the holiday party was last year, though, so I hope you realize my expectations are high.” Principal Dan lets out an exaggerated belly laugh and Louis can’t help but force a polite grin in response.

“I’d heard you were funny, it’s a shame we haven’t gotten to spend much time together until now. I know you’ve only been working here a few months, but the kids really seem to love you.” Louis’ smile is entirely genuine this time. He’d finished his final year at the University of Manchester back in May and managed to land a permanent position at the school he’d done his placement in.

He’d only been there officially since September, but he already loved his job more than he’d ever hoped to. He teaches drama to kids all day, and they seem to enjoy it as much as he does. He also gets to work with his best friend, as Zayn has gotten a similar placement as an English teacher. Louis can’t believe his luck sometimes.

Louis is pulled out of his reverie as Principal Dan places a piece of paper and a pen down in front of him. “I actually came over here mainly to make sure you don’t forget to put your name in the raffle. I’m not one to brag, but we have some _pretty_ spectacular prizes this year.”

Louis dutifully fills in his name and puts it in the glass fishbowl they’re using to hold the entries. Principal Dan gives him a firm nod and tipsily walks over to a group of women gathered around the eggnog.

“Mate, traffic was abysmal,” Louis’ face bursts into a grin as Zayn finally walks over to him, looking ridiculously attractive in a fitted leather jacket and his black driving glasses. Louis pulls him in for a quick hug before making room for him at the table.

“It’s all right, you didn’t miss much. Principal Dan’s pissed, and I think I saw Margie trying to woo one of the custodians with the mistletoe, but other than that I’ve mainly been playing solitaire on my phone.” Zayn laughs and Louis instantly feels better.

Zayn is one of his oldest friends, and for the past four years anyhow, his _best_ friend as well. He’d been there for Louis when Harry had stopped speaking to him, and he’d been the shoulder Louis had cried on when his mum finally told him Harry had moved to London shortly after Louis had graduated from sixth form to pursue a music career. He’d been there the first time Louis had seen Harry’s album in the shops and had broken down in the middle of the aisle.

Zayn has been there for Louis’ best moments too, though - when he’d starred in their Uni’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and gotten rave reviews, when he’d asked out the TA he’d been crushing on for their entire first year of school, and most importantly, he’d been the one to help Louis finally accept that what had happened with Harry wasn’t his fault, and that there was no point holding on to the weight of it anymore.

Zayn is a stable point in Louis’ life, and he loved him more than he had a right too. Now they share a flat in the heart of Manchester and are both doing what they love (and getting paid for it).

Before Zayn can say anything, Principal Dan gets up at the front of the room and clangs his knife against his glass, calling for quiet.

“Thank you so much for coming. This year’s holiday party has been quite the success if I may say so myself, and now it’s time for our annual raffle giveaway!” Louis and Zayn exchange a look as everyone around them cheers excitedly, but Louis can’t help but get his hopes up a bit. Sure, it’s only November, so the holiday party is a tad premature, but he sure does love winning things.

“And the first prize of the evening goes to - ”

Principal Dan reaches into the fishbowl and shakes his hand around a bit, grabbing raffle tickets at random before deciding on one at the very bottom and pulling it out with a flourish.

“Mr. Tomlinson!” Louis flushes as everyone cheers for him. He ignores Zayn cackling next to him as he makes his way over to the front of the room. Principal Dan pulls out a shoebox covered in bright wrapping paper and takes the lid off, gesturing for Louis to close his eyes as he sticks his hand in the box. He pulls out an envelope with a series of number scrawled on the front of it.

“Well then, open it!” The Principal exclaims, and Louis ignores Zayn smirking at him from across the room as he peels the envelope open to reveal a pair of tickets. He inspects them closer, aware that everyone in the room is staring at him with bated breath, but other than a cryptic M&G HS printed on the front he’s confused.

“Well, what is it?” Principal Dan asks excitedly. Louis shrugs. “I’m, um, not sure actually.” Principal Dan frowns and takes the tickets from Louis, squinting at the writing on them for a moment before shooting Louis an excited grin.

“You have some amazing luck, Mr. Tomlinson. Don’t be too jealous ladies, but he’s won Meet and Greet Tickets for the Harry Styles concert next week!”

Louis is so shocked he almost doesn’t process what’s being said around him. It’s not until he sees Zayn’s face fall and the worried expression cross his best friend’s face that the true meaning of the Principal’s words sink in.

The only coherent thought in his mind is _fuck_.

 

***

 

By the time Louis and Zayn make it back to their flat across the city, Louis has mostly managed to get himself back under control again. Zayn is still looking at him with four years worth of concern, like he’s a piece of particularly fragile china that needs to be handled carefully.

Louis sighs and collapses on their couch, hugging a pillow against his chest like a shield.

“I’m fine, Zayn, really. It was just a bit of a shock, is all.” Louis sounds pretty convincing if he does say so himself. But Zayn knows him far too well to be persuaded that easily. Zayn takes a seat next to him, pulling Louis so his head is leaning on Zayn’s shoulder.

“It’s okay to be upset. I would be.” And there’s something about the way Zayn says it so simply, just a basic statement of fact, that makes Louis crack.

“I thought I was over it, you know? Over _him_. It’s been four bloody years. I have a whole new life now, I’m so careful to never let myself think about it anymore. And just the mention of his name sends me reeling.” Louis turns to Zayn, not bothering to hide the wetness gathering in his eyes. “I don’t know what else I can do. What do I do?”

Zayn pulls Louis in tightly for a hug and wraps him up protectively. He’s silent for a long moment, collecting his thoughts before responding. “I think you should go.”

Louis stills in his arm, not believing what he’s hearing.

“Hear me out for a sec, Lou. He fucked up. He left and he fucked up and the simple truth is you’re still hurt because you never got a chance to heal. You never got closure. And I think that until you do, until you finally talk to him about what happened, you never really will.”

Louis doesn’t notice how hard he’s been biting his lip until he tastes copper on his tongue.

“What if he won’t talk to me?”

Zayn laughs. “He kind of has to, doesn’t he? It’s a bloody meet and greet after all.”

Louis rolls his eyes and Zayn grins at him. “You got two tickets, right? Why don’t I come with you? He fucked me over too, don’t forget. I’d quite like the chance to get some closure as well.”

Louis takes a deep breath and thinks it over. The thought of going there and seeing Harry again after all these years is, quite frankly, terrifying. But even more terrifying is the thought of _what if_? What if this is his only chance? What if he goes the rest of his life never knowing what went wrong? What caused Harry to pull away and shut him out so completely? There really is no choice, when he thinks about it like that.

“Okay,” he mumbles softly into Zayn’s shirt. Zayn kisses him on the top of his head.

“I’m so proud of you, Lou. You’ve always been so brave.”

Louis sighs, knowing deep down that what he’s doing isn’t out of bravery so much as it is necessity.

 

***

London

 

“I can’t do this.”

Zayn sighs from across the room, not bothering to look up from the magazine he’s reading. They’ve only been in the green room for 10 minutes and Louis has already tried to chicken out of going through with the meet and greet 15 times. Zayn was sympathetic for the first 5 attempts or so, but now he’s decided ignoring Louis’ (totally valid) concerns is the best option.

“We’ve been over this Lou. If I let you leave now, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. Think of it this way, if anything it’ll be worse for him. At least we have the element of surprise.”

This is true. Louis had had two weeks and the entire duration of Harry’s concert to psych himself up. When Harry had first walked out onstage, Louis had been convinced he would pass out on the spot. After four years of actively avoiding any and everything to do with him, Louis had no idea what to expect when Harry actually appeared in front of him.

In his mind, Harry was still a scrawny sixteen year old with baby fat and baggy jeans and corkscrew curls framing his cherubic face. Imagine his surprise when a tall, broad-shouldered man in painted on skinny jeans and _covered_ in tattoos took the stage, his hair long enough to pull back into a bun. His arms were toned and his face was sharper and his eyes were so so green even under the stage lights.

Simply put, he was so fucking attractive Louis felt his knees go weak and his stomach churn. What had he been thinking? Why on earth had Zayn managed to convince him this would be a good idea? He doesn’t know this person. He has nothing in common with him, not anymore. This is sure to be a disaster.

Louis quickly glances down at his own outfit, reevaluating everything. When he’d gotten dressed that morning, he’d decided to go with something comfortable yet flattering. He wanted to look good, but he also hadn’t wanted to look like he was trying too hard. He’d settled on his skinniest black jeans (the ones that made his already fantastic bum look phenomenal), a fitted band shirt, and his denim jacket.

Zayn had assured him that he looked hot, and he’d made sure not to shave for a couple of days because he knew his scruff looked particularly good when his hair was down and shaggy. He knew he looked good, just like he knew he looked nothing like he had when he’d been 18. Harry wasn’t the only one who’d grown up, he reminded himself. Maybe he could do this after all.

“Lou?” Zayn’s cautious voice drags him out of his head and back into the present.

Louis gives him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, just got lost in thought for a second. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Suddenly feeling uncomfortably constricted, Louis tugs his jacket off, draping it on the chair behind him and feeling the tension seep out of his body as the cool air hits his arms.

Zayn nods. “Yeah mate, I know. I wonder - “

Zayn’s eyes widen before he can finish his sentence, looking at something over Louis’ shoulder. Louis turns to stare before his brain can catch up with his body, and his thoughts stutter and freeze in place as his eyes land on Harry Styles himself.

It’s immediately obvious that Harry had no clue that Louis and Zayn were coming. His shirt is only halfway buttoned, and his hair is out of the constricting bun it’d been in on stage, now hanging loose and wavy around his shoulders. His eyes are almost comically wide, staring at Louis like he’s an apparition who’s appeared out of the ether to haunt him. Which, in a twisted kind of way, Louis supposes he is.

Since none of them seem capable of coherent speech, Zayn decides doing something is better than nothing and wraps a comforting arm around Louis’ waist, turning them both to face Harry as a unit.

Silence hangs over the room for a long moment before Harry manages to pull himself somewhat back together, the tiny furrow between his eyebrows never quite relaxing.

“What are you doing here?” he finally chokes out, his voice even lower than Louis remembers.  Sensing that Louis is still not up to conversing properly, Zayn responds.

“We’re here for a meet and greet,”

Harry blinks, stunned. “... A meet and greet?”

“That is what you musicians do, isn’t it? Meet a few lucky contest winners after every show, pose for a few photos, sign some autographs.”

Harry swallows, avoiding both of their eyes. “Well yes, but - “

“But what?”

“Why are you here?” Even Harry seems stunned by the sharpness in his tone, and Louis basically wants to curl up in a ball and die at this point and he hasn’t even said a single word to him.

Zayn looks down at Louis, feeling his anxiety in this rigidness of his body. “It’s okay, Lou.” he whispers encouragingly, and Louis takes a deep breath.

“I won tickets. In a raffle at work. It seemed a waste not to use them.” Louis’ voice is soft, far more subdued than he’s used to hearing it, but it’s enough to make Harry’s head jerk in his direction, his green eyes focused on him completely.

“You won tickets to my meet and greet at work,” Harry repeats softly, as if trying to process everything. Louis nods.

“But now I’m thinking it was a mistake coming here,” Louis admits, his voice a little bit stronger. He doesn’t miss the way Harry flinches at his words, and he can’t help the savage burst of pleasure that the 18 year old version of himself gets to see some sort of reaction.

Harry doesn’t say anything, just stares, and Louis sighs, putting his jacket back on and gesturing for Zayn to grab his stuff. “See you, Harry.” he says, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Of course nothing had changed. He can’t believe he’d been stupid enough to expect it would have. Harry might have gotten older, but he’s still the same 16 year old who had cut Louis out of his life out of the blue and broken his heart.

They’re almost at the door when Louis feels a tentative hand on his elbow. He turns around to see Harry standing behind him, and from this close it’s immediately obvious how much taller he’s grown than Louis.

“Don’t go. Please.” Louis can feel his heart racing in his chest, and he turns to look at Zayn who’s eyeing the two of them carefully.

He can’t avoid Harry’s eyes any longer and he finally looks up, feeling his stomach drop when his gaze locks on Harry’s. He feels himself nodding before he realizes what he’s doing.

Zayn clears his throat from behind them and excuses himself, effectively leaving the two of them alone for the first time in four years.

Louis is terrified, but it comforts him to realize that Harry is too.

They sit down on the couch in the corner of the room, each keeping a careful distance. Louis’ heart feels like it’s been in his throat for the past twenty minutes or so, and he’s not sure if he’s going to be able to talk, let alone hold a full on conversation. Harry is uncharacteristically quiet too (though, Louis thinks bitterly, maybe that’s just how he is now. It’s not like he’d know how much has changed since they’d last seen each other). Louis’ braces himself to just endure the time that Zayn is gone in strained silence when Harry finally decides to say something.

“You said you won the tickets through your work.” Louis honestly feels like they’re beating a dead horse at this point, but at least Harry’s made an effort to get the conversation rolling.

“Yeah, at the school Z and I teach at. We had a staff holiday party. Imagine my surprise when it was my turn to pick a raffle prize.”

A genuine smile flickers across Harry’s face. “You work at a school?”

Louis nods. “Secondary school in Manchester. I’m a drama teacher. Zayn’s English.”

Harry’s eyes widen, impressed. “You must’ve just gotten out of school yourself and you’ve already got a proper job. That’s amazing, Lou.”

The nickname just seems to slip out without Harry’s permission, and he blushes instantly. Louis doesn’t know how to react, so he acts like it didn’t happen.

“Yeah. We were pretty lucky to get placements at the same school. After uni and living together for the past four years I don’t think I’m quite ready to be away from him for extended periods of time anymore.” Harry frowns.

“So are you and Zayn…”

“What? Dating?”

Harry stares at him before nodding slowly, and Louis lets him sit in uncomfortable silence before answering.

“We live together and everyone at school jokes that we may as well be married but no, we’re not together.” Louis can see the relief flicker on Harry’s face no matter how hard he tries to hide it, and it makes him irrationally furious. Harry’s not allowed to care, not allowed to be _relieved_ about Louis’ dating situation (or lack thereof), not after everything he did. Louis can’t help the sharpness in his tone when he adds, “But he _is_ my best friend.”

The relief slides off Harry’s face, only to be replaced by something that looks like regret. Louis pushes the thought away immediately.

He quickly starts speaking before Harry can, not wanting the moment to linger any more than it already had.

“So how’s the tour, then?” Harry blinks at the abrupt subject change but bites his lip pensively as he mulls over the question.

“Good. Busy, you know. And completely exhausting. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world.” He smiles as he speaks, and Louis can practically feel his passion.

“That must be nice. To know what you want and be able to make it happen.”

Harry stares at him with a confused smile. “That’s like you, though, yeah? With teaching. You always said you wanted to be a drama teacher. Always.”

Louis is too stunned that Harry remembered to bother trying to conceal his surprise. “Yeah, but you have to admit it’s a little bit different from being a rock star and selling out arenas all over the planet.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow. “No, I don’t think it is. I think as long as you’re doing what you love, what truly makes you happy, then it doesn’t matter whether it’s teaching or singing or baking. What matters is that you weren’t afraid to go after what you wanted.”

Louis silently contemplates Harry’s response, surprised by the depth and emotion in his voice. He’d never really thought of Harry as the type to care so much about abstract things like ‘what does it truly mean to be happy?’ when he’s part of such a vapid industry. Louis realizes he really doesn’t know Harry at all anymore.

“Well then I guess I am just as good as you. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing with my life than hanging around with a bunch of 12 and 13 year olds playing make believe all day.”

He expects Harry to laugh, maybe, not frown sadly at him. “You know I don’t think that, right?”

“Think what?”

“That I’m better than you or some shit like that just because I’m a bit famous or whatever.”

Louis snorts. “More than a _bit_ famous, mate.”

Harry’s expression remains serious. “I’m not kidding, Louis. Please tell me you don’t think that little of me.”

And oh, isn’t that just the most delightfully ironic thing for him to say. At least they’re finally starting to creep closer and closer towards the thing they’ve both been avoiding talking about.

“I don’t know what to think of you anymore, Harry. I haven’t for the past four years.”

Louis doesn’t know how he manages to keep his voice steady, but he does. Harry flinches, like he’s been burned.

“Louis, that’s not fair - ”

And Louis can’t believe the words coming out of Harry’s mouth.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I actually _cannot_ believe that you’re going to try to excuse what you did.”

Harry’s eyes widen in panic, clearly not expecting Louis’ reaction. “Not excuse, Lou, explain -”

And the thing is, Louis might’ve thought an explanation would be enough when he arrived at the venue earlier that day, but he’s realized that there’s nothing Harry can ever say to make up for how much he hurt him. How much lasting damage Louis’ heart has incurred over the past four years. Anything short of an apology is nothing more than a waste of his time at this point.

Louis stands up abruptly, throwing his jacket on and walking over to the door. Harry trips on his way to get up as he follows him. “Louis, wait, just let me talk to you - “

Louis whips around. “Oh now you want to talk? After four years of nothing, suddenly I’m worth your time. I’m sorry Harry, but that’s not good enough. I don’t know why I even came here. Fuck, I am so stupid.”

Harry lets out a sob and Louis can’t even bear to look at him any more, turning back towards the door.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, and Louis can hear the agony in his voice, but it’s like his mind has disconnected from his heart and he just can’t feel anything.

“It doesn’t matter.” Louis says, and for the first time since he’s allowed himself to think about what happened between him and Harry all those years ago, he realizes it doesn’t.

What does an apology matter now? Harry’s never bothered reaching out to him, probably never would have talked to him period if Louis hadn’t taken the first step. He hadn’t even planned on saying anything about what happened if Louis hadn’t practically forced it out of him.

What Louis wants, what Louis _deserves_ is an apology that means something, not one tossed out as a last ditch attempt to save face and keep him from leaving. Harry is just as much of a coward now as he’d been when he was 16, but this time Louis has no patience for it.

Louis hears Harry’s broken sobs behind him as he pushes the door open and steps out into the hallway, refusing to look back.

He finds Zayn around the corner, the concerned look on his face blooming into one of complete anxiety as he sees the tears welling in Louis’ eyes. Zayn pulls him into a hug as Louis finally breaks down, the shame and betrayal and aching sadness of the past four years clawing their way up his throat and choking him.

“I want to leave,” he manages to get out, and he knows that Zayn knows he doesn’t mean back to the posh hotel room that’s been booked for them down the street, but rather their quaint two bedroom flat in Manchester.

“Okay babe, let’s go home,” he agrees, wrapping Louis up tight against his side and walking them both back to the car that will take them away.

 

***

 

Two Weeks Later

 

Louis takes a bite from his mediocre peanut butter and jam sandwich, trying to ignore the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’s sitting in the staff room with Zayn on their lunch break, and while it’s been two weeks since their less than stellar meeting with Harry, Louis still isn’t back to his usual self. He’s done a pretty good job of hiding it from his students, and even his mum over the phone, but he can’t fool Zayn.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you?” Zayn’s eyes are wide and filled with concern. Louis looks at his hands.

“I don’t know what’s left to say. It’s just … frustrating, innit? Nothing even happened, not really, nothing actually changed. But I feel so unsettled and I wish…” he trails off, not sure how he wants to finish his sentence. “I wish we’d never gone, but I also can’t bring myself to regret that we did.”

Zayn flushes. “I feel like this is my fault, Lou. I pushed you into going, and I should’ve expected it would be a disaster.”

Louis gives him a small smile. “I will throw my sandwich at you if you don’t stop blaming yourself. You encouraged me, but ultimately it was my decision. And at least I know now.”

“Know what?”

“That it really wasn’t my fault. That, whatever happened, it’s on him and not me.” Louis shrugs and takes another bite of his sandwich when he feels Zayn’s arms wrap around him. He can’t help the startled laugh that escapes.

The mood sufficiently lightened, Zayn and Louis spend the rest of their lunch break having a heated discussion about casting in the latest Marvel movie. Louis is in the middle of making a very important point when his phone starts buzzing next to him. He doesn’t recognize the number, but Louis answers it anyway after a moment of hesitation.

“...hello?”

There’s silence on the other end for a long moment before the line goes dead. Louis looks at the phone in confusion before putting it back in his pocket.

“They hang up on you?” Zayn asks curiously.

“Yeah. It’s been happening all week and I don’t recognize the number. Weird.”

Before Louis can think much more about it, the bell rings and he and Zayn both sigh.

“Two more periods. Think you can handle it?” He teases, letting out a startled squeak when Zayn pinches his side.

“They’re writing tests today. I’m spending the next two hours on Netflix.” Louis pouts and Zayn grins at him, laughing when Louis crosses his arms over his chest like a child.

“You better not watch any more X-Files episodes without me!” he calls after him as Zayn vanishes around the corner.

Louis’ phone starts buzzing in his pocket for the second time, but this time Louis doesn’t pick it up. The unknown number can leave him a message.

 

***

 

“And what exactly is it about the concept of the fourth wall that you don’t understand?” Louis is in the middle of his last class of the day, and he’s very much ready to go home. Normally he loves spending time backstage with the kids and teaching them about how professional stage productions work and the importance of the people involved both behind the scene and in front of the audience, but after his talk with Zayn at lunch it feels like he’s hit a mental wall.

Before the student he’s talking to can answer his question, the classroom phone starts ringing and Louis holds up a hand. “Hold that thought.”

He jogs over to the phone and answers with a curt, “Mr. Tomlinson.”

“Louis?” He lets out a grin at the voice on the other end. Of all the people that work at the school, the secretary Sheila is easily his favourite person (aside from Zayn, of course). She’d helped show him around and calmed his nerves during the first week, and he still tried to pop in to see her whenever he had a spare moment.

“Hi Sheila, lovely hearing from you.”

“You too, son.” Her voice sounds a bit strained, and he feels his stomach drop as he wonders for the first time if maybe the call is bad news rather than good. Before he can worry about it much more, she speaks. “There’s someone here to see you. I told him you’d be done in 40 minutes but he’s very insistent. Said he had to talk to you now.” She sounds like she’s not sure if she should be telling him this, and Louis wonders for a brief moment if maybe … but no, it couldn’t be.

He pushes the thought of his head before it can develop much further and focuses on what she’s saying. “...I can tell him to leave if you’d like, dear.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll get someone to cover my class and be down in a mo’”

He hangs up to the sound of his students whispering excitedly to each other. “Oh calm down, I’ll be back soon enough. Just, I don’t know, focus on going over your monologues in pairs while I get Mrs. Thompson to keep an eye on you.”

After arranging with the neighbouring teacher to check on his class every few minutes, Louis  heads down to the main office, his heart thudding in his chest. He focuses on the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other, not allowing himself to panic about who might be waiting for him.

He manages to keep his expression fairly neutral until he turns the corner and sees the back of an unmistakable head of curly hair facing the door. He stops in his tracks, allowing himself one brief moment to entertain the thought of just not going inside and going back to his class, but he knows he has to face him. Face Harry. Again.

Sheila’s face lights up when she sees him, and Harry turns around, his posture tense and the anxious furrow between his eyebrows looking like it had been etched their permanently. Today he’s wearing a simple button up over a pair of black skinny jeans with a floral patterned headscarf holding his unruly curls back, and Louis’ curses the flash of heat that zips up his spine upon seeing him. He really had grown up to be unfairly attractive.

“Lou! I was just telling your guest that you couldn’t be away from your class for too long. I know you hate leaving them by themselves.”

Louis nods, still unable to look Harry directly in the eye. “Thanks Sheila. If I’m longer than 15 minutes, can you give Mrs. Thompson a ring and let her know?”

Sheila agrees, and Louis finally turns to look properly at Harry. “Let’s not do this here, yeah?” He asks, not really expecting a response before he turns and walks back out of the office, expecting Harry to follow him. He does his best not to outwardly show how much he’s freaking out, but he’s in completely uncharted territory. What does Harry want? Why the fuck is he here, in bloody Manchester at Louis’ school of all places?

He leads them both over to a spare classroom at the end of the hall where he knows they won’t be interrupted. Harry follows him in, fidgeting with his hands in a way that Louis remembers so distinctly from when he was still a boy. Louis closes the door behind him and leans against one of the desks, his arms crossed in front of him as he waits for Harry to start talking.

Harry keeps his head down, looking at his hands as he plays with them. When he doesn’t seem any closer to saying something Louis rolls his eyes to himself and sighs.

“So what is this, exactly?”

Louis’ voice snaps Harry out of whatever mental talk he’d been giving himself and his head jerks up, eyes wide.

He gapes for a second, trying to find words and failing. He settles for a shrug and a mumbled, “I just wanted to talk.”

Louis can’t help the laugh that escapes. “No, we tried that already and you saw how well it went the last time. Why are you here, really?”

Harry swallows. “I didn’t … what happened, before, during the meet and greet. I felt terrible about it.”

Louis shakes his head. “That was two weeks ago. Couldn’t have felt too bad, obviously.” He knows he’s being harsh, but he also knows that if he doesn’t stand his ground now he might never get another chance. This is the boy that shattered him into a million pieces and never cared about the aftermath. He’s lucky Louis is talking to him at all.

Harry blanches. “I tried to find you. That night, after you left, I called my manager to find out which hotel you were staying at, but when I got there the concierge said you’d never even checked in. I had no idea where you were, Louis. You have to believe me.”

“I don’t have to do anything you tell me, actually.” Harry flinches at the coldness in Louis’ voice, and Louis can’t help but think _good_.

“I realized you must’ve driven straight back to Manchester with Zayn and I had a show the next night in Bristol, I knew I wouldn’t have time to come find you until the tour break.”

“There’s this handy thing called the telephone, could’ve tried that first. It’s a lot less dramatic than showing up unannounced at your ex best mate’s workplace, but it still does the trick.”

Harry has the decency to blush. “I did. Try calling you, I mean.” Louis’ eyebrows raise in confusion until he remembers the calls he’d been getting from the number he didn’t recognize.

“You hung up whenever I answered.” Harry flushes a crimson red and nods, looking more and more like the sixteen year old version of himself that Louis had been so familiar with.

“I was afraid of what you’d say. I knew that if you hung up that would be that, I’d have lost my chance.” Harry finally looks up again, his gaze catching on Louis’ for the briefest of moments before it darts away. “I figured if I showed up in person you’d have no choice but to talk to me.”

Louis bites his lip. “Nearly did, you know. Turn back and walk away when I saw it was you in the office.” Harry frowns, and Louis wants to take it back. It’s true, though, is the thing, and Harry needs to hear it. Needs to realize just how much his actions fucked Louis up.

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbles softly, and Louis sighs.

“You keep saying that, but I don’t know what you’re expecting from me. Forgiveness? A hug? A nice story your team can shop around to different talk shows next time you’re interviewed?” Harry’s eyes snap up to meet Louis’ at that last bit.

“I would never.” he says firmly, his tone sharp and his eyes blazing.

“And how am I supposed to know that?” Louis asks seriously. “I don’t know anything about you, not anymore. I have no idea what kind of person you are now.”

“I am still the same person I was at sixteen, Lou.” Harry declares fiercely.

“The person you were at sixteen abandoned me without an explanation and never spoke to me again. Are you sure that’s the person you want me to see when I look at you?” Louis’ voice is surprisingly unemotional. He really must have accepted it, he figures, if he can talk about it like this without tearing up like he used to.

Harry deflates where he’s standing. “No. No, you’re right.”

Louis stands up before he realizes what he’s doing and takes a step forward. “Why are you really here, Harry?” And maybe it’s because it’s the first time Louis has said his name to him since he got there, or maybe it’s just because all of the fight in Harry is gone, but he when he looks up at Louis, there’s an honesty in his eyes that he hasn’t seen in years.

“You deserve the truth. And while the thought of telling you scares the shit out of me, I know it’s the right thing to do. The only thing to do, really, if I ever want to stop hating myself.”

Louis sits down on the desk across from Harry, maintaining eye contact.

“I’ll listen to you, but I can’t promise anything else.”

Harry nods. “If you never want to speak to me again after hearing this, I’ll respect that. I just can’t live with the thought of you never knowing why. It took me a long time to realize why I felt so unhappy all the time even when I was doing so well, and I realized it’s you, Lou. What I did to you. It’s never stopped haunting me.”

Louis feels his own cheeks burn red but he forces himself to maintain eye contact. “Then tell me.”

Harry sighs.

“I fell in love with you,” he finally admits, his eyes glued to the floor.

Louis’ always thought that people tended to over exaggerate when it came to describing highly emotional moments in their lives, but if feeling as though he’s been sucker punched in the gut is any indication, he realizes he’s going to have to reevaluate.

“You… what?” he chokes out, unable to tear his eyes away from Harry.

Harry still has his own gaze directed at the floor and the only indication that he even heard Louis is the small nod of his head. “I always knew that I wasn’t, like, completely straight, but it took a long time for me to admit it, even to myself. When we started fooling around after your birthday, I managed to convince myself that it had nothing to do with you being a guy, it was just physical. My body was just reacting to another body. I told myself over and over again that I’d feel the same way if I got off with a girl as well.” He laughs to himself, and it’s edged with sharpness.

“Of course it got harder to keep telling myself that I was straight when we started hooking up all the time, or when I’d try to get turned on by watching girls and thinking about girls and I wouldn’t feel anything, but then the moment I thought about you…” he trails off again, flushing.

“Then there was that night you were supposed to stay over. I was having so much fun with you, just hanging out and neither of us even thinking about sex. It was just … it was so lovely, Lou. Just being with you and knowing you felt the same way.” He pauses, taking a deep breath, and Louis knows then that it’s coming. He’s finally going to find out why Harry cut him out of his life, and it’s all he can do to stay where he is and shut up and just listen.

“But then you fell asleep, and I know that sounds so stupid, so fucking idiotic, but it changed everything. Because I realized in that moment that what I felt for you was more than just friendship. It was more than just getting off with my best friend because it was convenient. I loved you. I was so, so in love with you. With your body and with your smile and with your soul and every other bloody cliche thing. And suddenly I couldn’t deny it anymore. I was gay. I was gay and I was in love with a man and …” he bites the inside of his cheek, finally daring to meet Louis’ wide stare. “I hated myself for it.”

Louis lets out a sharp breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. And it’s irrational, he knows, but he can’t help the stab of pain that shoots up his spine. Harry must see it in the look on his face and he frowns guiltily.

“I didn’t want to be gay, and I think part of me blamed you for forcing me to realize that I wasn’t straight. In my scared 16 year old mind I thought that if I just avoided you, the feelings would go away, and then maybe so would the whole _being gay_ thing. But it didn’t work, no matter how long I went without talking to you or seeing you I would still think about you _all the time_. I even cut out Zayn and Liam and Niall because I was convinced they would make me talk to you, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I gave in and I couldn’t have that. I had to make it a clean break.” He runs a distracted hand through his hair, considering his next words, and Louis feels like he’s drowning.

“Then I started hanging out with Grimmy and his friends, and I thought, yes maybe I’m straight after all. Maybe you’re just a fluke I couldn’t get out of my system. Grimmy was one of the few gay blokes in school aside from you and while I appreciated his friendship, I was never attracted to him. I never felt about him, or anyone else at school, the way I felt about you. It strengthened my resolve to keep you out of my life, because I knew I just had to finish the year and then you’d be gone off to Uni and I’d finally be able to breathe again.”

Louis wants to interrupt, yell, scream, _something_ because he is so _so_ angry and hurt but it’s taking all of his energy just to breathe in and out. Harry hardly seems to notice Louis’ inner turmoil, too focused on his own.

“Grimmy introduced me to a few people he knew in London that summer and I managed to get a record deal. I was so happy, Lou, so over the bloody fucking moon about it. But there was still this terrible sadness inside me that no amount of success was able to fill. To add to the irony, I discovered very quickly after spending some time there that it wasn’t just you I was attracted to after all, but men in general. I had another big gay crisis, only this time there was no one else I could pin my feelings on, no one else I could blame for making me this way. And I finally realized that I’d ruined the most important relationship I’d ever had in my entire life for nothing.”

Louis feels like he’s been stabbed, but he somehow manages to keep sitting upright. Harry’s eyes are surprisingly dry considering his emotional state, but Louis guesses he’s spent a lot of time hating himself over the realization he’d come to and that he’d probably cried enough about it in the past.

“I spent the summer recording a demo, and then a few months after that going to industry parties and meeting important people and all I could think about was how much I wanted you to be there with me. But by then the full extent of how badly I’d fucked up had sunken in, and I knew there was no way you’d ever forgive me. I didn’t deserve it. So I just closed that chapter of my life off in my mind and did my best to never think about it because it hurt too much. I never thought I’d get another chance to see you, Lou, let alone to apologize for how colossally I fucked up everything.”

Harry takes a hesitant step forward, not sure if Louis’ going to let him approach or not. “I can’t even begin to imagine how much I hurt you, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that. I certainly don’t expect you to. I just wanted you to know why.”

He holds his hand out and Louis debates with himself for a long moment before taking it. The moment they make contact Louis notices a tear rolling down Harry’s face, and he knows it won’t be long before he’s crying too.

“I loved you too.” Louis admits, and Harry’s expression is painful to watch. “But you broke my heart so completely. It took me a long time to be okay again. I don’t … I can’t just get over that.”

Harry sniffs and nods, and Louis can hear the tears in his throat. “Kicking you out like that, seeing your face in the cafeteria the Monday after … I broke my own heart too.”

Louis lets go of Harry’s hand, feeling overwhelmed. Harry does his best to hide the hurt look on his face.

“I just … I need time. To think about this. And space.” Louis stutters out as Harry nods.

“Of course, I understand.” Harry looks lost in thought for a moment before scrawling something hastily down on a piece of paper and cautiously looking at Louis.

“Can I ... is it okay if I give you this?” Harry holds out a piece of paper with a telephone number and an address on it. He flushes when Louis stares at it for a long moment. “I just, I’d hate to think that this was it, you know? That I’d never have even the smallest chance of hearing from you again.”

Louis nods slowly and takes the paper, tucking it in his pocket. “Your number’s the same,” he remarks curiously, and Harry blushes crimson.

“Yeah, I have another cell I use for work and personal stuff, but I always kept that number too. Just in case, you know…” he trails off, but Louis gets his meaning. In truth the thought had occurred to him a handful of times when he was at his lowest over the past four years to try calling Harry and demanding answers, but he’d never gone through with it, always afraid of what he would hear. It’s strange to realize that Harry had spent the same four years hoping he would.

“I’ll call you.” Louis says, and it comes out like a promise. Harry looks so hopeful, but just as quickly he’s trying to reign it in.

“You don’t have to say that.”

Louis shakes his head. “I’m not. I don’t know when I’ll be ready to talk to you again, and I can’t promise it’ll be soon, but I will call you. Because at the very least we both deserve closure.”

And Louis is pleasantly surprised to discover he means every word.

 

**Part III: Full Circle**

 

Christmas Eve

It’s entirely his fault for forgetting to take his phone off silent when he woke up that morning, but here he is, sitting alone in his childhood bedroom on the morning of his 23rd birthday staring at the missed call from Harry Styles.

It’s probably for the best that he didn’t answer, he thinks to himself. He’s still not sure he’s ready to text Harry, let alone speak to him on the phone. After another minute, the message light on his phone display starts blinking. Louis stares at it and tries not to panic. It’s already 11 am, which means his mum must’ve let him sleep in as a birthday treat, but he was sure that within half an hour the twins would be invading his room to drag him downstairs to celebrate. That meant he only had half an hour of privacy. He bites the bullet and presses ‘play message’

Harry’s voice somehow manages to be even lower over the phone than it does in person, and Louis feels like he’s drowning in it.

_Hi Lou, I know you wanted space and I completely get that, but I couldn’t let myself miss another birthday. I can’t believe you’re already 23. It’s mind boggling to think that your 18th birthday was already five years ago. I don’t want to keep you too long, and I don’t want you to think I’m trying to push you into making a decision. I promise I wouldn’t do that. I just … I want you to know that you deserve the world, Louis, you deserve everything. And if your birthday is even a fraction as amazing you are, then it’s sure to be spectacular._

Harry pauses and Louis can’t breathe.

_Happy birthday, Lou. You’re still the best friend I’ve ever had._

Harry hangs up a moment later and Louis doesn’t know what he’s feeling. It’s like his insides have been scooped out and splattered all over the walls. The only emotion he can clearly isolate from the mess is ironically the one he can’t put a name to. It’s not happy, but it’s not sad either. It’s a bit nostalgic, but mainly it’s just … warm. That’s it. Louis feels _warm_.

Without taking too long to think about it, he picks up the phone and dials Zayn’s number.

 

***

 

When Zayn shows up at Louis’ mum’s front door later that evening, he’s greeted like the prodigal son. Both of Louis’ eldest sisters are desperately in love with him (not that he can blame them), and Jay is just tipsy enough to welcome him with a cheek pinch and a hug so tight Louis’ not sure Zayn can breathe. When she finally lets go, it’s to take a step back and stare at the both of them, her son and his best friend standing in her front hallway on Christmas Eve.

“I’m so happy you boys have each other. Zayn, we’ve missed you so much! You have to visit more often, okay? Manchester’s only two hours away.” Zayn blushes as Louis laughs, having been given the exact same speech from Zayn’s own parents the day before when they’d both arrived back in Doncaster for the holidays.

“Alright, I’ll let you boys relax for a bit, but I’ll need your help setting the table before dinner, Lou!”

Louis frowns but gives in agreeably enough. He all but drags Zayn up the stairs behind him, closing the door to his room before Lottie and Fizzy can try to sneak in too.

“So, not that I don’t love seeing you again after a whole 18 hours, but something tells me there’s a reason for the panic in your voice this morning.”

Louis nods, not sure where to begin. Zayn beats him to the punch anyway.

“It’s about Harry, isn’t it?”

Louis gapes, always underestimating Zayn’s weird finely tuned best friend intuition. “How’d you know..?”

Zayn laughs and rolls his eyes at Louis’ obliviousness. “Do you really think a famous musician can just walk through the halls of a secondary school in central Manchester without anyone noticing?” And, well, when he puts it like that…

“You knew he’d come to see me this whole time and you never said anything?”

Zayn shrugs. “I was waiting for you to bring it up. Then, when you didn’t, I figured it had gone badly or that you just weren’t ready to talk about it.” At the look of guilt on Louis’ face, Zayn tugs him into a sideways hug.

“It’s okay, Lou, I wasn’t mad or like, judging you or anything. I know this isn’t exactly the easiest situation.” Louis grumbles his agreement and buries his face in Zayn’s shoulder as Zayn laughs.

“He said he fell in love with me. That’s why he cut me out. Because he realized he was gay and properly in love with a bloke and he had a big gay freak out and thought never talking to me again would be the solution.”

Zayn sighs and rubs a comforting hand up and down Louis’ back.

“You don’t seem all that surprised.”

Zayn rubs through Louis’ hair. “I’m not. I figured it would be something like that, even back then. I just didn’t think it was my place to say. I didn’t want to make things worse by adding the whole homophobia thing to it.”

Louis bites his lip and lies back on his bed, thinking. “What’d the other boys think? Did Liam and Niall agree?”

Zayn lies back next to him, taking his hand. “They thought it was a pretty good guess, yeah, though Liam was confused about why Harry would hang out with Grimmy if he was afraid of being gay.”

“He said he was never attracted to Grimmy, so he thought that meant he wasn’t actually gay for all blokes, just for me. He said it made him even more determined to stay away from me.”

Zayns rolls his eyes and squeezes Louis’ hand. “What an idiot.” Louis snorts. “Yeah.”

“Did he at least apologize?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, he did. He also said he didn’t ever expect me to forgive him, he just wanted me to know the truth. He seemed … I don’t know, it’s like there’s this part of him that’s missing from the person I remember him to be. There was just this sadness that he couldn’t seem to get rid of.”

Zayn scratches his neck, thinking. “So what brought on you calling me in a panic? The last time you saw him was two weeks ago, yeah?”

Louis nods, biting his lip. “He called me this morning to wish me a happy birthday. I missed the call, but he left a voicemail too.” Louis looks up at Zayn, the confusion clear in his eyes. “I don’t know what to do. Zayn, what do I do?”

Zayn gives him a tiny smile. “It’s simple, really. Do you still love him?” Louis blanches, surprised that Zayn knew that he’d been in love with Harry too. He thinks he should probably stop being so surprised to find out that Zayn sees bloody everything.

“Yes. I don’t think I ever stopped, if I’m being honest with myself.”

Zayn squeezes his hand again, keeping their eyes locked together. “And are you still angry at him, or bitter about what he did?”

If you’d asked him a few weeks ago, Louis’ sure the answer would have been a resounding YES to both counts. But now, now he’s not so sure. He doesn’t feel the same anger burning inside his as he did before, and unlike the times he’d just pushed it away and pretended he was okay, he really genuinely feels like he’s moved past it. So no, he’s not angry anymore.

Is he bitter? He doesn’t think so. Having had time to process everything Harry’s said, to finally understand why Harry did what he did and to see how cut up about it he still is, Louis knows that he’s not bitter either.

He turns to Zayn with a tiny smile. “No, Z. I’m not.”

Zayn pulls him into a proper hug. “Then I think we both know what you need to do.”

Louis grins, and he wonders if this counts as his very own Christmas miracle.

 

New Year’s Eve: London

It’s not until the reality of the situation hits Louis that he realizes he’s potentially making a massive mistake. He’s standing in the lobby of Harry’s building in London on New Year’s Eve, and he has no idea if Harry is even home, let alone if he wants to see Louis. He really should have thought this through more, there’s a reason he rarely makes impulsive decisions, but he’d been thinking about Harry all week and he couldn’t make excuses any longer for not doing something. The final push had come when he’d finally went out and bought Harry’s first album, locking himself away in his car so he could listen to it in silence for the very first time.

Every song, every word, every bloody breath he could hear Harry taking between lines made him feel like his soul had been ripped out. He could _feel_ the emotion pouring out of Harry when he sang, and while he couldn’t explain it, he just _knew_ the songs were about him. All of them. Every fucking song on the entire first album. His thoughts were confirmed when he read the liner notes and saw _This is for you. I wish I had the courage to tell you in person._

Louis had started sobbing in the car, and while he’d believed Harry’s apology before, hearing Harry’s music for the first time, written less than a year after he’d stopped talking to Louis, had been the catalyst he’d needed to make a move.

Without thinking twice, Louis had pulled out the piece of paper with Harry’s address on it from his wallet and drove straight to London, only calling his mum from the car to let her know he wouldn’t be back that night.

“Louis it’s New Year’s Eve! What are you thinking!” Jay sounded frantic over the phone.

“Zayn will explain if I’m not back in time to, but just trust me mum. This is something I need to.”

Jay had finally relented, telling him to drive safely and call her as soon as he could.

Louis stopped midway between Manchester and London to fill up the tank, and as he waited to pay inside the station he downloaded Harry’s second (and most recent album) on his phone. He listened to it for the rest of the drive, and by the time he’d pulled up to the carpark at Harry’s building he was a sobbing mess. The second album had more of the same themes of longing and loneliness and guilt, but the pain was less fresh. It had dulled into a constant ache that Harry sang would always be there, a part of him that he’d never be able to shake.

So now here he is, standing by the concierge’s desk and wondering if he’s made a terrible mistake. He’s pretty sure he looks terrible, he knows his eyes are still red, and beyond the address of Harry’s building, he has no idea what flat he lives in. This is going to be a disaster.

Before he has a chance to talk himself out of even trying, Louis hears a stunned intake of breath behind him and turns to see Harry standing a few feet behind him looking shocked. He takes a slow step forward, disbelief painted on his face.

“...Lou?” Before Louis even realizes what he’s doing, he runs over to Harry and pulls him into a hug, tucking his face into Harry’s neck and feeling his curls tickling the side of his face. Harry is still beyond words, but he instinctively pulls Louis as close to his body as he can, and Louis can hear his heart hammering in his chest.

Louis pulls back after a moment and keeps  his eyes locked on Harry’s as he takes his hand in his own. For once he’s the one with no idea what to say. Harry’s expression of shock has slowly merged into one of genuinely baffled happiness. “You’re here.”

Louis nods. “Yeah, I, um … I wanted to see you.”

Harry’s smile lights up his whole face, and his eyes are practically radiating with joy. “Do you, I don’t know,” he pauses awkwardly, as if still somehow worried that Louis could ever turn him down. “Do you want to see my flat?” Louis grins, nodding shyly. Harry beams at him in response, pulling him along gently by their still connected hands.

Once they’re in the elevator, they both lapse into a mutually comfortable silence, though the air between them still feels charged. Harry lives on the top floor (of course he does) at the end of the hall, and he seems uncharacteristically nervous to show Louis his flat. Louis puts a calming hand on his back, and Harry loosens up a bit. “I just can’t believe you’re here. I keep waiting for you to change your mind or vanish into thin air or something.”

“I promise you I won’t.” Louis responds, and it seems to give Harry the courage he needs to unlock the door and pull them both into his flat. It’s beautiful, is the thing, and exactly the type of place that Louis would imagine Harry living. It’s gorgeously decorated, a perfect mixture of unique touches and more traditional furnishings, and Louis kind of wants to spend the rest of the night just taking everything in, asking Harry questions about what made him buy that painting and when he read that book.

But that’s not why he came here, and based on the softly cautious look Harry is giving him he knows it’s time.

“I got your birthday message. I wanted to answer sooner but I didn’t … I had no clue what to say. I called Zayn and had a proper strop about what to do.”

Harry laughs. “And did he help?”

“Yeah, he did, the bastard. He made a lot of sense and forced me to face some things about myself that I’d been hoping to avoid.”

Harry locks eyes with him, and Louis can see the terror still hiding in them, the fear that Louis is going to change his mind. “Things like what?”

Louis looks down. “Like whether I still loved you.”

He can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath and now he’s more afraid than ever to look up. Harry manages to keep his voice mostly level when he asks, “And what did you say?”

Louis takes a deep breath before stepping forward, finally dragging his eyes up to meet Harry’s probing green ones again. “That I do.”

Harry’s whole body goes slack with relief, and he pulls Louis towards him again, lining them up in a hug the encompasses all of Louis’ smaller frame. “I love you too. I’ve never stopped.”

Louis smiles against Harry’s neck, and he wonders if he can feel it. “I listened to your albums for the first time tonight. I couldn’t handle it, before, but it finally felt like it was time.” He pulls back a bit to meet Harry’s eyes again. “You wrote them for me.”

Harry nods, his eyes completely clear and honest. “Every song I’ve ever written is about you.”

And that’s it, that’s the tipping point. Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and pulls him into the kind of kiss he’d only ever dreamed of sharing with him. Unlike all the times they’d hooked up when they were younger, there’s a passion there and a depth that Louis’ never felt with anyone before. He realizes that it’s love.

Harry pulls him over to the couch and they fall together, still kissing deeply and holding each other so every part of their bodies touch. Louis can distantly hear the clock chiming midnight somewhere outside the window, can hear the cheers and the fireworks, but he doesn’t care. There’s no place he’d rather be than right here with his boy. With Harry.

Harry pulls away to breathe, and Louis doesn’t think he’s ever seen him happier. It’s like pure sunlight is pouring out of him. “I can’t believe you’re really here. I was ready to wait forever.”

Louis kisses him on the tip of his adorable nose and laughs when Harry scrunches his face up and giggles in response. “I think we’ve both waited long enough to be happy, don’t you?”

And if the look on his mother’s face when he brings Harry home with him to ring in the new year is any indication, he’s not the only one who thinks so.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! Thanks for reading :D  
> ❄⛄


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